


Weathered

by Naegling



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Study, Fellowship of the Ring, Gen, Lothlórien, M/M, Open to Interpretation, Optimism, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9823145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naegling/pseuds/Naegling
Summary: In Lothlorien, Gimli considers the future, what it might be like, who he might spend it with. Whether or not there will be one.





	

Gimli could hear voices speaking nearby, Hobbit voices he realized, and his tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

He had awoken slowly, nothing had startled him awake and the sun remained, (as far as he could tell) just where it was when he had drifted off. It hung above the west horizon, just above the distant hills poised to plunge beneath them and abandon Middle Earth to the night. It drifted no lower, though he was sure he had been asleep for many hours. 

'Perhaps' he thought, 'perhaps I have slept a whole day and have woken at the hour I fell asleep on yesterday. Perhaps it has been more than one day. Would if it has been many?' The thought alarmed him. 

He did not know how long he had been resting beneath the golden trees. His surroundings gave no indication that any time had past at all, yet he felt over rested where he had been exhausted when he had first laid down.  
His companions were sitting nearby and it was their voices he had heard.

"There will be grate feasting, and celebrations lasting a forenight with gifts and cake and, and "  
Pippin's voice trailed off as he attempted to recall what he had been thinking of. 

"Fireworks", Sam offered to fill the vacancy. 

"Yes and fireworks." 

The Hobbits were silent for a moment, there eyes were red rimmed, Gimli observed as he rubbed the weariness  from his own.   
Merry's hand came up and rested upon his older cousin's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Frodo didn't seem to notice.  His gaze remained on the ground before him as he continued to stare despondently. Pippin continued, 

"The gate at Bree will not be so guarded, and the folk not so mistrustful. They will not fear travelers and black riders in the night. They will not begrudge a Hobbit a place to sit or stay for a time. There will be songs to be sung and  tales to be told; grate feasts and firelight.  
There will be peace In the world, as there once was before, as there must have been at one point,"  
Pippin paused, the gestures his hands had been making growing awkward in his uncertainty. He knew little of other lands, and less of the world at large. He pressed on.

"The world was peaceful at one point and everyone got along, more or less."  
He paused again, perhaps waiting to see is any would call his bluff. The other Hobbits were silent,  

"Why, I reckon all the world could be made as comfortable and as homely as the Shire if folk put their differences aside."

There was nodding and agreement among them. And Gimli realized with grief, with joy that Pippin actually believed what he was saying, even if only partially. Pippin lit his pipe. 

"Good company and hospitality yes, Just like the Shire," and the others toasted to the repeated sentiment.

"Yes indeed." 

"Better", said a voice that came hesitant, hoarse, and hopeful from Frodo.

" Better even then the Shire", and his smile was tight lipped and wane. Merry brightened considerably and laughter, nervous but not false rang out quietly in the grove. The sound as tentative and as bold as their hope quieted, and they continued to speak of fair lands becoming  fairer. They're words careful not to tread where wounds were sore, to dig where balrogs slept, to invoke the long sulking silence they had sat in ere this conversation began. 

  Gimli rose from his resting place where the moss had been his pillow and the grass lay flat. He shook his head at their youthful, naive optimism that he both envied, and admired. Before he had given it much consideration he was walking, as he thought. Down a winding path, that bore no marking, and had no boundry. 

As he went the trees grew farther apart, and he could see the sun much clearer that he could before. His thoughts turned from its attempts to calculate how long he had been sleeping to other, less practical things.  Could he even imagine a world such the one Pippin described, or had he known too much grief and too little joy?  
He watched the sunlight climb it's way toward the horizon splintering the white clouds into countless shades and vibrant hues. He stoped walking and stood in the long shadows of the trees and the growing things he could not name. 'Yes,' he decided, this he could do. He could picture a day in his mind, a quiet evening  like this one, after all quests and duties were done and fulfilled. The world could be a peaceful and happy place, if the speaking and sentient folk would let it be. Or perhaps if only most of the evil in the world had passed on, like a storm over a valley and left, in it's wake a place where simple people could go about their gentle rolling days doing simple things. There would be minerals to harvest, beauty to be shaped and wrought from stone and gems in all the day's long hours. There would be good food for all to eat, not sparse rations to distribute. He could imagine if he tried, (though he felt slightly foolish for doing so) a time in which tools would be sharpened for carving wood and rock not for hewing the flesh of enemies. Trumpets and drums would sound in celebration, rather than in warning of danger.  
A stranger at the gate would bring good tidings. 

A more relevant question perhaps, than if he could imagine such a world would be, if he could ever have a place within it. If he were to be alive when this war reached it's end. Did he, who had been beaten and weathered by storms belong in a place with out blemish or grooves? Could he enjoy good fare, or would he always stash it away for when food was scarce or unfound? Then, if those times did not come again, meals would fester and grow stale in his pockets, and mold would thrive  beneath the floor boards.  Hardship had shaped him, carved him, with steady hands constant and familiar. If he could live in a world without it, this he did not know. 

Could he sleep a full nights rest, or would he awaken at every stir and nightly sound? Would trumpets ever sing to his ears, or would that always blare in warning?  
Would his eyes be ever alert, searching for a danger that wasn't there?  
Could he leave a stronghold unarmed? 

No. 

The world that Pippin described was not the world he knew, it was not comforting to him in it's unfamiliarity. Perhaps it was one he could explore for a time, before leaving in search of greater perils and vaster unknowns. In such a world he would become a relic of a time gone, and mostly forgotten.  
Forged by tribulation's hands and unable to bend or yield. He would wander such a world in a state of restlessness, if he were left alone. So it stood to reason he shouldn't be.  
Mustn't be.  
   
Could he at least,  find the good company Pippin had spoken of? At least one he could trust, one who's age had come and gone. A relic in his own right. Could he find such a person to wander with, one who was not too strange not over familiar, one just as restless as himself? Could he make a personal connection with such a person if he were to meet them, or would his interactions always be careful and guarded? Would his words ever flow easily, or would they always be filtered, and diplomatic? Would he ever be able to speak of his own thoughts, and not as an ambassador to his people, concerned with representing the interests and virtues of his kin, his kingdom, his race? Could he have a friend just for himself? Or must he always be forging alliances and making political ties? Could he ever be Gimli, just Gimli to anyone, or must he always be "Master Dwarf"? 

There is someone standing beside him now, and he did not hear them come. The night accompanies them. The shadows have swallowed the sunlight at last.  
  What once was familiar is now strange. The last rays of sunlight are fleeing the sky, are abandoning them for good. 

Yes he decided, with his dark eyes on the west horizon, this he could do.


End file.
